


A blind date

by Rae_Saxon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blind Date, Crack Fic, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Weird beard shenanigans, the discord made me do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25975459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae_Saxon/pseuds/Rae_Saxon
Summary: Albus Dumbledore decides it's time to start dating again. Maybe this time, he won't end up with a mass-murdering lunatic. Except that hope dies when Lord Voldemort walks in the door. Awkward small talk ensues.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Voldemort
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	A blind date

This whole blind-date business was rather more difficult than Albus had thought, honestly.

It had been a while, of course, since his last attempt to get into dating had gone horribly wrong and giving it another try was already taking up a lot of courage...

But now that he sat here, in the empty room, he was beginning to get even more nervous than he had been at the prospect of someone finding out that he had once dated an evil, dark wizard who planned to rule over the whole world and death itself.

What if he was too old?

He knew some people felt a bit bothered by a beard while kissing and he had... well, there was no way around it – an exceptional amount of beard.

Was he too famous? Basically everyone in the wizarding world knew his name. Could he really have a blind date in the original sense, if anyone he would be presented with already knew his name?  
  
And, oh God, what if he ended up with Mundungus Fletcher? He knew for a fact that he had signed himself up for several blind date courses at the same company as Albus, because he had missed Harry duty twice for a rather kinky adventure with Dolores Umbridge.

Albus sighed.

There simply was no way around it. He would have to sit here and find out.

It all had started harmless enough. The nice lady at the counter, though looking surprised, had given him a sheet to fill out with several preferences. It was odd, after so many years of keeping it a secret, to simply check the little box for “men”, but weirdly freeing, in a way.

After that, it had just been about scales and numbers.   
  
Yes, he liked his men a bit rebellious. Criminals? Maybe a little, just so he wouldn't be too bored? He did not want to end up with Cornelius Fudge, that much was for sure. On a scale from 1-10, he ticked a 4, just to be sure.  
  
Hair? Well, honestly, he had enough hair for the two of them.   
  
Did he like cuddling after sex? No way to tell! Gellert hadn't cuddled much and he had enjoyed their time together... let's simply check no.

Were noses important to him? What an odd question.

Albus had chuckled and vividly remembered the time Aberforth had broken his nose. Well. It would by ludicrous to expect the perfect nose from someone while his clearly showed the marks of past mistakes.

No, great magical powers were not important to him, but by all means, it would be nice to have someone to talk to once in a while. Constantly knowing more than everyone else, why, it was... exhausting. So he chose the number 10, just to see what would come out of it.

Would he end up with Mad-Eye-Moody? Maybe, but he could imagine worse than spending the day with Alastor, date or no date – That at least wouldn't be a total loss.

And here he sat now, on the table in the little restaurant the agency had picked for them, nervously shifting his fork for the third time. Every time the little bell announced that the door had opened, he looked up, excitement peaking, his hands sweating and then, finally, after the fifth time his head had shifted up....

_Oh no._

In came Lord Voldemort.

There must be laws, Albus thought, surely, against dating a former student. There had to be laws to get him out of the binding blind date contract he had signed, that was meant to ensure that no one got stood up. This could not possibly... he could not...

Voldemort caught his gaze, froze for a second, then gracefully stepped towards the table and sat down.

“No use looking for my date further, is there?” he asked with his usually high voice. “I, Lord Voldemort, am supposed to have a match with you of all people, old man?”

Albus' shoulders sank.

“So it would seem.”

“How could this have happened?” he asked, clear confusion in the high voice and Albus sighed.

“I genuinely do not know, Tom. It seemed _someone_ must have cheated with their sheets, because _someone_ seemed to feel the need to rate their criminality at four when they're very clearly a ten.”

Voldemort snorted.

“Well someone seems to have also rated their “How annoying would your friends describe you” levels at 0, which I, personally, find very hard to believe.”

Albus spluttered, “My friends always speak in highest tones of me!”

“So do mine,” Voldemort announced with a wolfish grin. “Because otherwise I murder them.”

Dumbledore frowned. He had heard that people tended to lie during blind dates and he had figured he might as well make his whole profile look a little prettier, himself – But who could've ever expected this?

“So, you're looking for a relationship?” he finally asked, trying to get the conversation back to civility.

Voldemort shifted on his chair nervously, taking a sip of the wine Albus had poured into his glass while waiting.

“What can I say, being the Dark Lord of all can make a man feel lonely. No one to sit next to me on my throne made of the bones of my enemies. Harry Potter has rejected my friend request five times now.”

“Ah, Tom, you know how children are. You kill their parents once, they'll still hold it over you fifteen years later.”

“I know!” He-Who-Does-Not-Catch-Sarcasm replied dramatically. “You'd think he'd be grateful! When I killed my parents... Let's just say i would've gone out with myself, happily!”

“Yes, I can imagine,” Albus replied dryly, taking a sip of his own glass of wine.

“Any chance you could get in a good word for me?” Voldemort asked, leaning forwards now, his snake-like eyes gleaming conspiratorially. “He always listens to you.”

“Pardon,” Albus shrugged, “I'm not planning to talk to him until you've stopped trying to use your connection to him against the Order.”

“Ahh...” Voldemort replied, regret audible in his voice. “Such a shame. Well, I suppose I have to get his attention... in other ways.”

“You are rather difficult to ignore,” Dumbledore replied with a little nod.

They ordered their food from a very worried looking, young waitress. Voldemort seemed determined to enjoy his night out, ordering three main courses and two desserts with a little, hungry hiss.

“You're paying, I assume?” he asked Albus, who looked taken aback for a second, before nodding with a sigh.

He might as well be a gentleman tonight. No point in going home alone, really, when he might as well could simply face the facts: He had a _type_. And apparently that type was murdering lunatic with superiority complex.

“More wine, please,” he muttered towards the waitress, who seemed to almost graze his chair while trying to stay as far away as possible from Voldemort while serving. “I'm gonna need it.”

The evening was surprisingly pleasant. Once the uncomfortable topic of being on two different sides in a wizarding war was off the table, they found they had a lot of similarities. Lots of people to use. More power than people around them could ever imagine. Issues with hair growth...

“No matter what I do, it simply doesn't grow back,” Voldemort entrusted him with a little whisper. “You'd think with all the magic I can do... but nothing...”

Albus cleared his throat slightly. “Is that also... what... you know... with your nose...?”

Voldemort raised a non-existent eyebrow.

“Why, what is wrong with my nose?”

“Oh...” Albus replied. “Nothing. Nothing. So, you asked for my secret. I have to say – Simply doing absolutely nothing about it did the trick. Grows like crazy.”

“I will remember that,” Voldemort replied with a solemn nod.

“So, how's Snape doing?”

Albus, spooning in his dessert enthusiastically, looked up.

“Severus? Oh, well, well. He does what he loves. Ruining students lives. He fits right in with a few of the other people I have employed.”

“Good man,” Voldemort muttered. “Good man.” He looked up, correcting himself in panic. “I meant.... what a horrible traitor!”

“Oh, it's fine.” Dumbledore waved off his concerns. “I already know he's a double agent.”

“Well...” Voldemort gave him a sheepish smile. “What can I say. I simply know how to make them loyal.”

He raised one of his long, white fingers and Albus froze, as they neared his mouth and then entangled in his beard, until Voldemort finally pulled his hand back, ice cream on the tip of his finger.

“You dropped a bit of your dessert,” he explained, his voice hoarse in seduction.

Albus swallowed.

“Why... thank you, Tom. How attentive.”

Voldemort, his hand still raised, stared at him, into those crystal blue eyes and Albus, too, found himself unable to look away.

Finally, after a few seconds of sexual tension in which none of them noticed the waitress quickly leading everyone outside behind their backs, they leaned over the table at the same time, their lips crashing together in a battle of tongue and will.

Half the plates and candles fell down the table, half of Voldemort's body ended up splayed on it, but none of them cared. One hand tangling up in Albus' beard yet again, Voldemort pulled him closer to his side, showing a predatory grin.

“Now I've got you right where I want you, old man!”

Dumbledore merely chuckled. It seemed in this particular lucky instance, his beard wasn't too much of a hindrance after all.


End file.
